


Your Love Will Forever Remain Endless

by OfficialAliceYabusame



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Falling In Love, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Light mention of alcohol, Love Confessions, M/M, Major TW just in general, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:09:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialAliceYabusame/pseuds/OfficialAliceYabusame
Summary: The one in which George can't handle life and the one in which Dream wants him to live.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 29





	Your Love Will Forever Remain Endless

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey! Note that this is my first serious fanfiction I have ever actually posted. I usually always give up on fanfiction's like these so please be nice to me- My writing is not the best and I'm also dyslexic so-
> 
> I genuinely might rewrite this to improve it because I'm literally cringing at this. I'm so sorry for those who read this.

Laughing in the distance, shouting nearby, excited looks upon others faces seem to desperately be trying to make eye contact with George, George felt like everyone was looking at him but he knew that wasn't true yet that feeling of pure anxiety and sheer embarrassment from almost nothing stuck to his mind as if it were duck taped. What was he even doing outside, outside at night nonetheless? George never felt safe around anyone, not even around his family did he feel safe. Whenever he went outside, he often found himself wearing noise-canceling headphones with music blasting so he couldn't hear the loud voices of the people around him that he knew would stick to his mind and stay stuck in his head if he heard and in small spaces or areas where not a lot of people were near. He liked laying down on the dock near his house at night as he stargazed, overthinking his day and ways he could have done better. Analyzing why he felt so alone when he had so many people that he knew cared for him. Pills never worked and neither did therapy, he felt hopeless all the time and sometimes he forgets what it's like to feel happy. Then there's that switch inside of him where he pushed all his emotions down and ignores them until once moment brings all those feelings back to the surface causing him to breakdown, whether that be in public with dozens of people watching or alone in his room with a blade to his wrist, wishing he could just die on spot and be forgotten because, in his own mind, he already is forgotten. Forgotten like the homework you never turned in or forgotten like the pills you didn't take or the pills you never picked up. Forgotten like food in the back of the fridge that, leftovers. Leftovers that are open for anyone to have yet no one wants them so they're left to slowly rot and deteriorate, waiting for someone, anyone, to find them and when they are found, they're thrown away because they're too broken to ever be eaten. Trash.

But pushing those feelings down, George focused on where he was. The loud voices and booming music made George so uncomfortable, why was he even here? He could check his phone messages and refresh his memory, check if he was supposed to be meeting anyone or if he slipped out of his mind again and his body carried him to the outdoor-plaza but, why would he do that to himself, why would he make himself feel so overly uncomfortable out of just pure action? There's that saying, "The best things in life are meant to make you uncomfortable," but George doesn't like uncomfortable, George can't handle uncomfortable, George will breakdown when he feels uncomfortable. Uncomfortable to George is as frightening as it is for any woman to walk home alone in a an empty street. Uncomfortable to George is as frightening as hearing about how a serial killer could be loose in your town. Uncomfortable to George is not sitting down in a cramped car for an hour long drive, uncomfortable to George is standing in a room with a bunch of people as the only thoughts in his mind are, "I don't belong here," or "They all hate me." Uncomfortable for George is his raging social anxiety that stops him from having common interaction because it's not easy for him yet it's easy for everyone else. George can't talk to people yet everyone else can. George can't be in a room with over thirty people without getting an anxiety attack and tons upon tons of intrusive thoughts yet everyone else can do it perfectly fine, normal. Normal like going out to eat with your friends or normal like going to the movies with your friend group to see the new summer action movie you've been waiting to see for three months. Normal like being able to look someone in the eye without feeling the immense amount of dread throughout your body. Normal, normal like the things George can't do. George isn't normal. Atypical.

George felt as though he could breakdown any second, large and sudden amounts of discomfort swarmed his body, dread flowed through his veins as he stood completely still, head down, avoiding contact with everyone yet even though he couldn't see anyone looking at him, he convinced himself that they were looking at him, talking about him badly, judging every aspect of him. Deep down he knew that wasn't true but fighting for his own rational thoughts was like battling in war. A war impossible for George to win. A war with unacceptable conditions but a war that George was forced to fight nonetheless, a war that ended as soon as it started. A war in which the outcome of losing was your sanity. A war George lost five years ago. As soon as he allowed the blade to hit his skin, tears falling from his face and broken sobs leaving his lips, blood surrounding his wrists, he allowed himself to lose his battle. Memories from that point on a blurred, passing out from blood loss, tear stained face, hospital visits and sweaters in summer. The great loss.

"George!" A voice boomed behind him, quickly running up to him to give the brunette a hug. It wasn't long before the voice had realized George was shooken up and about to break any second, "Hey, are you okay? We can.. Let's go to my house instead of the food court. I can cook us something."

George looked up at the blonde and nodded, beginning to walk out of the loud plaza area and into the parking lot where Dream drove George to his house in which they ate dinner that Dream had cooked for them and watched a movie.

\----

George held that night over his own head as if he was guiltily trying to hide the fact that he murdered someone. Dream just wanted to hangout with his bestfriend but of course, George had to go and fuck it up, at least that's what George's own mind was telling himself. Feeding himself negative remarks, giving into the intrusive thoughts that seem to get quieter but never go away, they're always there, always waiting for the perfect moment to attack George at his most vulnerable times, breaking the boy more and more each day, bringing him more and more into the decision to take himself from this cruel world. It would happen eventually, George knew it too but he tried to stay as strong as he could but how could he stay strong when in his mind, he seems to fuck up everything he does. He already fucked up his own life, he doesn't want to fuck up Dream's. He loves Dream too much to do that. He's thought about leaving Dream because in the back of his mind, he knows he will end up hurting Dream and he can't handle the fact that it's going to happen sooner or later. I mean, it happened it happened with Sapnap, and Sapnap promised George that it wouldn't happen.. but it did. Therefore, it's bound to happen with Dream. Inconceivable.

All these emotions, again and again, no matter how much it happened, always led George into his bedroom, sobbing a great amount as he held the blade to his wrist or any part of his body, evidently, it didn't matter what part of him he harmed as long as he could see the blood, feel the pain because as long as he knew he was in pain that he imagined he rightfully deserved, he knew that he would always be in as much pain that he put someone else through. It was his fault, everything seemed to be his fault. everything that went wrong in the world always seemed to be George's fault in his mind, he was only punishing himself since no one else would do it. He's only carrying out the role of those who sentence the bad people in society. Indelibly the right choice, is it not?

That's where he was right now, alone in his bedroom, completely destroying his arm, straight lines of cuts overlapping each other. Sometimes he wished there was someone to stop him, someone to take the blade away, someone to hold him close, someone to assure him that he did nothing wrong, someone to give him a kiss on the forehead, someone to cuddle him, someone to bandage his arm, someone to cry into the shoulder of but who would want to do all that for someone who can't even tell the difference between his own problems and those of who are around him? Who would do that for someone who can't give anything back in return, someone who can't go a day without breaking down, someone who can't go a week without a blade to his skin, someone who can't go a month without a visit to a hospital, someone who is overlooked by everyone, someone who has too many things wrong with his that he's lost count of how much is wrong with himself, someone who feels as though he is the scum of the Earth, lower than any human on the face of the Earth. Someone who will forever remain deeply wounded. Affected.

Anyone who would ever come in contact with George will always suffer from his mental baggage, they'll always find someone who is better than George, someone exactly like George but with no mental illness, no lacerations deeply carved within his skin, no sweaters to always cover up his skin, his beautiful skin. Oh how Dream wished he could tell George that his cuts on his skin didn't matter to him, wished he could tell him that his mental illness is something he can look past because deep down the real George is always there, Dream doesn't want someone exactly like George, he wants George, no one will ever be able to replace George. For five years, Dream waited and waited for George to realize his worth but he never did, if George can't realize that blossoming and bright worth that he has, the amazing change he has made in the lives of his friends, then Dream would make sure to show George that worth because George is worthy of love, George is worthy of someone to hold onto, George is worthy of living, George is worthy of living his life with Dream. Deserving.

There had always been the obvious feelings that Dream had for George, ever since they met, Dream felt a certain way about George. George was different, different than any girl Dream has ever been with. It was in that moment, that breathtaking, loving moment, the Dream knew he would wait forever for this man, whether that be platonic or romantic, he would wait as long as it took. As long as Dream was with George, he could die happy. If George never knew how Dream felt, so be it, Dream still spent his life with the man he loved, the man he wished and hoped would get better every single day, the man he hopes will find self-love within himself. The man that deserves love. Platonic or romantic, George deserves Dream, George deserved love, George deserved to live his life with Dream because Dream is the only person that could ever care for him better than anyone else. His soulmate.

Dream wished they could runaway with each other, begin a new life, create a paradise together. Forgetting about the world, only them. Just them together forever. If they left tonight or anytime, essentially, both would die happy. They would die with each other, in the arms of those they loved, even if they didn't know they were in love with each other, they still would die being loved. All sadness ever cursed upon them in their lives would evaporate, just them, only them, them forever. Together forever, together in a bond that no one else would ever experience. Where others decay, they will ripen. No longer alone, they will find the love that they desperately searched years for within each other. Loved bu each other, united as one. 

But that was unimaginable, it would never happen because it was all a false reality. A reality to cover up George's rotten life, the life that was so fucked up that there was barely even a chance that it could be saved, the depressing life that were like ones you would read about on the news, "Another Teen Life Lost To Suicide: 1/16/2021." Then suddenly everyone seemed to care, but only when you've already died. Only when you're dead do they regret hurting you, only then are you not stared at for having a mental illness, only then are you believed. Only then do you suddenly matter more than those of your peers. Only then will they stop to think, 'Maybe I shouldn't have bullied that kid,' or 'Maybe if I had just been kind to them, maybe then they would have lived.' Despair, the utter loss of all hope, loss of all sense of comfort. Gone. Everything is gone by that point. 

That was all constantly on George's mind, 'Maybe if I were dead, maybe then they would care,' but he knows it would be different with himself. He had no one to care about him, no one but Dream and Dream already cared for him. But.. What's the point of living if you only hurt everyone? George isn't even living for anyone, he's living because he's too scared of death. The thought of dying, leaving his life behind, as worthless as it was, filled him with anxiety. He may be suicidal but at least he's stopped by the overwhelming feeling of pure fear whenever he tries to commit. George was never someone to commit to anything though, afraid of commitment, that's why all his relationships ended quickly. He never really said he loved anyone he has been with despite the fact that he did love them, he was just afraid they never loved him back because who could ever love someone like him? Though of course, the answer was Dream. Dream could love someone like him because in Dream's eye, George was the most imperfectly perfect person in this world. It wasn't often but whenever George smiled, it could bright up a room. Dream would die for George, he would risk his life in an instant for George. He wanted George to know that he will forever be loved, unconditionally loved at that. Although, Dream would never tell George that. George needs to find his purpose first. 

But that would never happen, George already believes that he has no purpose and if he did have a purpose, it was to be a punching bag for others. That feeling, that purpose, that intrusive thought is what controlled George. For five years, it had been what fueled George's urges to slice his skin in the name of the punishers. A punishment for living, a punish, a punishment for causing harm that never existed in the first place. An empty punishment that should have never been initiated in the first place, George's mind just seemed to be looking for a reason, any reason no matter how small, to cause the destruction of his body. The destruction of George as a whole. He wasn't broken, no he was demolished. Worn down to the point where it hurt to get up in the morning, hurt to walk, hurt to be productive. Forever unmotivated. The only motivation George had was the motivation to slice himself more and more because eventually, if he did it enough, he would die, wouldn't he not? Eventually, the ambulances would stop coming for him, the doctors would stop caring, Dream would forget him and find someone better. That was the whole point of harming himself. He would die completely unloved, no longer hurting people. Forever alone with no one but his thoughts.

Forget the feeling sad, no, George felt completely wrecked. Sad couldn't even begin to describe what George constantly felt. Sad is temporary, erased was forever. Erased by himself, erased by society because society makes it seem as though you have to be normal to be considered part of society, if you're weren't happy all the time, if you didn't have have friends, if you weren't anything described as 'average', then all you were was a social reject. Censored out by society. George was a social reject, someone who would walk alone in the dark, outside in the rain all by himself. He would lay down in the middle of the road in the rain, spread out as though he was at home asleep in his bed, he would let the rain fall onto him as he screamed out his emotions because unlike how society framed it, men have emotions too. Unlike the average, George wanted to be alone all the time. There was ever only one person George wanted to be with, Dream. He never understood how he could love someone he hurts so often, someone who would never love him back, someone 'out of his league,' in terms of society. Dream always had people chasing after him, girls constantly asking for his number out in public. Dream could have any girl he wanted, what made George think he even had the slightest chance with Dream? No matter his chances with Dream, moments of him and Dream always played in his mind. George needed no one else in the world, only Dream. His love for Dream is deeper than any ocean, love that will forever remain endless. 

But it hurt, his love will remain endless but both their lives will end. Dream would die without knowing George's true feelings and George would die a stranger to Dream's love. They would never tell each other how much they love each other. They both thought it would ruin everything, though George's life was already ruined by his unhealthy coping mechanisms. No, scratch ruined, his life was dismantled. Broken into tiny pieces, they had no chance of being put back together. The more and more George thought about that fact, the more and more he knew his life meant nothing to those of society. To the world, he was just some lonely piece of bones, wasn't he? George was living for someone else rather than himself, how much more depressing could his life get? 

When George went back and looked over these emotions, he realized how little his life mattered. How little it would mean to the world if he died. What he never considered is how much his life meant to Dream. He wished he thought of that before he made the choice. He wished he thought of that before writing the note. He wished he thought of that before running into the night. He wished he thought of that before he made the decision that would forever affect Dream as a whole, the decision he could never take back.

\----

It was three in the morning when Dream got that text message. His eyes lit up when he saw it was from George, George hardly ever messaged him, especially at this hour of the night. At this hour, George was usually drinking away his problems. Then it hit Dream, why would George be messaging him now of all times? George rarely even used his phone, let alone unlocked it. Before even opening the text, every horrible scenario played through Dream's mind. Then before Dream knew it, he was racing to throw on clothes so he could run out of his apartment and jump into his car. He's never been so close to having a panic attack more than he was in this moment. He started to speed down roads, almost breaking down when traffic slowed down. He had never drove this fast on a free-way in his life, he was so happy that it was empty. It was when he was pulled over that pure panic consumed him. Sometimes he thinks about if he could have made it to George in time if it wasn't for that one moment, the moment when the policeman gave him a ticket despite the sheer desperation in his voice as he explained the situation. Though, Dream was thankful the policeman followed him to the bridge, he didn't have too but he did.

As soon as Dream had arrived at the bridge, he knew it was too late.

"N.. no... I was.. too late?" His voice quavered and his whole body shook before he fell to the ground. 

Suddenly the air around him thickened and it became almost impossible for him to breathe properly. Within a few minutes, police cars and an ambulance surround the bridge. Divers swam into the cold waters, looking for the body of Dream's only friend, the body that belonged to the love of Dream's life. The same policeman that followed Dream here kneeled next to the blonde, sobbing man. He slowly rubbed Dream's back, trying to calm him down and drive him away from the scene before the body was discovered.

"You did all you could, didn't you? You sped here in hopes of saving him, right?" The old policeman stated, calming his voice a bit.

"I-.. isn't that the point..? I- I did everything I could and he still died! I never.. I never got to tell him.. I never even got to say goodbye.." Dream screamed through his sobs, crying into the policeman's shoulder.

Panic filled the policeman, it wasn't that he had a young man crying into his shoulder, but the fact that the divers found the body.

"Hey kid, do me a favor and don't look up. Just.. keep crying into my shoulder." The policeman sighed, lowering his head.

That's when it all hit Dream, it was real. It was all real. It wasn't a false reality. It was all true, it was all happening. George's body was found, could, dead, and alone. Dream put his head up and pulled away from the policeman, he started running to the bottom of the bridge to see his best friend's body. The policeman didn't stop him either, he let him run. 

"Why didn't you stop him?" A young, brunette policewoman asks, taking off her hat and she too kneeled down. 

"He never got to say goodbye. He deserves to see his love one last time." The policeman answered.

"How do you know he loved him?" The brunette asks.

"The way he screamed when he saw that the one he ran off to save wasn't there. It was then I realized that he loved him."

\----

Dream surround George's dead body that laid on the ground. His eyes were closed and his lips were purple. Dream kneeled down to touch George's body, it was cold. Everyone who was around Dream and George's dead body began to feel bad for Dream. 

"I- I loved him.." Dream whispered.

"We know you did, he knows it too now." A random police officer said, "I think it's time you go home."

Dream nodded slowly, standing up. The police officer walked him to his car then left Dream to drive home alone. Dream screamed the whole way home... 4:06 AM.

\----

"Dear Dream, 

I've realized.. Well no, I've always known how little my life meant but recently it's come to my attention that I can't keep living the way I am. I've tried fixing myself for so long, but there's just no fixing a person whose life has never meant anything to anyone. No one can fix me, I'm so fucked up and no one, not even you, know how to deal with it. I apologize but, the world would be so much better if I were gone, would it not? I'm tired of thinking about taking my last breath, I have to take my last breath. I'm tired of my mental health being romanticised by society as if it isn't a real thing. My mental health is not something that's "hot," it's a real thing. I refuse to live in a world that can't seem to recognize that I am human too. I'm sick of living, I'm sick of destroying my body, I'm sick of drinking away my problems, I'm sick of listening to my thoughts. Therefore, if I end it, it will all stop. I'll be gone and the world will be happier, will it not? 

But before I leave you alone, I wanted to tell you something I never thought I would tell you. Dream, I've always been in love with you and I understand that you probably want to stop reading now but I couldn't die without you knowing my true feelings. I've never thought about any person in my life more than I've thought of you. Your eyes, your laugh, your touch.. It's always made me feel better. I wished I could have kissed you, I would have died happy y'know? I've never trusted someone more than I've trusted you. You're my world, you're my society, you're the one I wish loved me. You're the one I wish I could runaway with. You're the one I wish I could spend my life with but sadly, by the time you're reading this, I'll already be dead, then there would be no point in living my life with you, right? Because I'm already gone. I wish I could've cuddled you, held your hand, laid with you in the night but that goes against the purpose of my life. You've always told me to find my purpose in life right? Because if I did find my purpose in life, you would tell me a secret, would you not? Well, I found it Dream. My purpose in life was to be a punching bag for everyone, nothing but a worthless organism for others to step on. I wish I could have heard that secreted you would have told me but, it wouldn't make a difference if I'm dead, right?

And ending on that note, I hope you find a life with the girl of your dreams, I hope you start a beautiful family with that girl. I hope you marry her and have the big wedding you've always wanted. I hope you live your life better than the way I lived mine. Dream, I want you to life the life I never could. Live life for me, I'll be waiting when the dream ends.

\- George"

\----

"But.. How could I live a life without you here with me?"


End file.
